A Small Death
by Dr. Breifs Cat
Summary: Death, on Rogue. Drabble. Blood of Apocalypse.


**A Small Death **

Being how he wasn't really interested in the psychology of his condition, the one who called himself Death failed to notice the small ways in which he was changing. He knew, because Famine told him, that he had been something of a failed experiment, a half-formed Horseman, when he battled the X-Men along side War, Pestilence and their Master. In the time since, he'd grown fully loyal, fully formed, though Apocalypse was no where in sight.

Incomplete, he had been Death and could see Remy LeBeau through a thick haze of memory and mental and emotional distance. He had yearned for Remy, reached out for him. His Master thought to take Remy away, and Death threatened to kill him if he tried. Death knew vaguely that Remy had wanted to guard Master's intentions, make sure they were good and kind and truly helpful to mutantkind. He had thought if he refused any drugs, the transformation machine would be unable to touch his mind. When he was first alerted to Remy's lingering presence by the skunk-haired girl, he'd given it a mental shrug. Remy had been wrong, Death was here now, and that was that.

But the more he really thought about what she had said—which he imagined was rather rebellious, as Master was very closed-lipped about the whole thing and didn't want him thinking about it—the closer to the surface Remy seemed to creep.

Complete, Death and Remy were blended into one personality, one set of memories, a single conviction. He very much preferred things this way. It was not as disconcerting as being two separate people. He could understand why Apocalypse might not have wanted him that way, though. After all, had the things he witnessed gone underway differently, he would have run back to the X-Men. It was only by chance—_quelle_ _chance_—that it had gone in Master's favor. Shame, it was, that Master wasn't around to see it.

Death would find him, and Master would be so pleased.

Rogue's talk of love and his own musings afterwards had reminded him, oh, yes, Death did love Rogue. He had since long before he even was Death and had so many memories on the subject. Memories where she said things like, "—an' if Ah hurt you," he could remember her turning away, hunching over and whispering, "ah know, ah just know, ah'd want to die." Or another time, she told him, trying to make him accept that when her absorbed powers were going haywire, she was willing to let her friends stay by her side, but not him, "Fact is, they get hurt, it'll break my heart. But if its you, ah'll die."

He found these particularly of interest, as she was clearly still alive, yet had been steadily hurting him for so long. She would push him away, refuse to trust him, fawn over other men, leave him to die, accuse him of being unfaithful… So much pain. When she felt like accepting him, and Remy had always watched her so carefully, because he never knew what days she might be willing to love him and what days she might want to kill him for some new transgression, be it legitimate, imagined or so far in the past that it shouldn't even matter to her, Rogue would give some minor indication and he would run back to her. Assuming, of course, that he had left in the first place, which he never really did.

Had she given an indication that she wanted him back, Death would have offered himself. Probably, Apocalypse feared that. But what she actually did was inform him that he was in love with her and proceed to let another fellow fondle her.

It hurt.

So much.

Death could only assume Rogue wanted to die, and who was he to say no to that?

* * *

Disclaimer: I honestly don't know why I bother with these, being as they really MEAN NOTHING. It's kind of silly to write them. I'm not part of Marvel, I'm not selling this and we all know that based on the fact that its appearing at a site called FANFICTION dot net.

Author Notes: There was originally about three lines to this idea, so I'm okay with this being as short as it is. I can't get it any longer. Rogue's first quote is from X-Men 24, I don't know what issue the second one is from. I got it off a scan, at the Romy site "The Love Machine," and thanks to the member of the Joker and the Queen Message Board that directed me there, Jen. I think everything else more or less speaks for itself.


End file.
